


The Braid

by Lanerose



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-12-31
Updated: 2005-10-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where the Gundam Wing universe is what's on the other side of the gate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is your upfront warning that this story is old, hasn't been updated in a decade, and will likely always be incomplete. If you can't handle that, please stop now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

“You are like your father, after all.” Dante said, her violet eyes gleaming malevolently. Ed glanced quickly away from her, towards the child held close in Rose’s arms. An alchemical array flared to life on the child’s the stomach, and before Ed had time to truly process what was happening, the gates rose majestically before him.

The gate… He thought, eyes widening slightly. The doors swung open, pulling him through. There was the brief tearing sensation, followed by a semblance of weightless flight. Then pain, as all thought fled his mind.

“Ouch.” Ed began, rising unsteadily to his feet as the world slowed from a dizzying whirlwind into a more regular landscape. His mind swiftly recognized that he no longer stood in the abandoned city in which he had been speaking to Dante. No, this place seemed much too soft – picture frames on the wall, a vase filled with flowers sitting neatly upon a table. “What… What’s going on? My eyes…”

He struggled to focus his vision, and went to rub at his eyes. Shocked flooded Ed’s mind as his slightly raised right hand crossed his line of sight. The hand, so long mechanical, a reflection of his sins – the hand was covered with flesh, and could not have been made of anything other than bone and tissue. Disconcerted, he raised his eyes once more, trying to get a better view of the room. As he glanced swiftly around, a reflecting glass hanging on the wall drew his attention.

“Who’s that?” Ed queried aloud as he stared at the stranger in the mirror. The trademark braid that had hung down his back for so long seemed to have disappeared. The features of his face, grown familiar over many years, had subtly altered to something sharper, more angular. “What the…?”

SLAM! Ed jumped and turned around as the door swung open behind him. There stood a man he recognized all too well. The man was, after all, one of the few people he had truly hoped to never see again in his life… his father.

“Edward!” The man said, reaching forward and grabbing his arm, before turning to pull him through the door. “What are you doing? A ship is falling to Earth!”

“A ship…?” Ed asked, as he stumbled into the open air. Regaining his balance, he jerked his arm from his father’s gasp. “What do you mean, a ship? Pops, why are you here? What is this place?”

“Pops?” Hoenhime questioned, turning to look more closely at his son. “Edward, what are you saying?”

“Didn’t you go to Dante’s place?” Ed replied, drawing himself upright in the doorway of the house. He briefly surveyed the surrounding area. “What is this place? What’s happened to me? This face, these hand - ?”

He glanced once more at the flesh and blood arm attached to the right side of his body. Hoenhime followed the boy’s glance, then strode forward and grasped Ed by the chin. He stared deep into Ed’s eyes, before nodding to himself.

“You… are my son Edward.” The man said, his brown eyes gazing seriously into the boy’s golden orbs.

“Of course I am.” Ed answered scornfully, pulling his face harshly from the hand that had held it steady. He glared at the taller man as he drew himself a step back, closer to the door frame.

“What are you doing here?” Hoenhime asked, his gaze never breaking from that of the child before him.

“That’s –“ Edward began, but was silenced as the piercing shriek of a nearby siren cut through the air. Both he and Hoenhime glanced in the direction from which the wail had come momentarily. Then the man once more grabbed his son by the arm and began to pull him swiftly through the street.

“Let’s go! It’s coming!” The taller figure shouted over his shoulder as he dashed swiftly through the neighborhood. Ed ran as swiftly as he could, lengthening his own stride to match those of the man before him as best he could.

“What is it?” Ed called ahead as the two joined the throng of people rushing through the city streets. The elder man had released his arm, but for lack of a better idea the boy followed him still.

“Libra.” Hoenhime replied, continuing to run.

“Libra.” Ed repeated softly. A blast rocked the sky, and he looked swiftly skyward to stare at the buildings towering overhead, all the while hot on Hoenhime’s heels. There, in the midst of the atmosphere, was a falling chunk of metal that could only have been constructed by humans.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Impossible odds…” Duo mumbled to himself as he studied the massive group of mobile suits he faced alone. “Just the kind I like…”

Violet eyes narrowed at the screen before them, debating the best course of action for a few moments longer. The mobile dolls before him were still motionless, but he had no doubt that would change shortly. After a moment’s consideration, a braided head nodded once swiftly, and then a small body burst into almost frenzied action.

The Gundam brandished its scythe momentarily before striking at the dolls nearest him. Empty as they were, the pilot had no fears of injuring others. For a single, shining second, the dolls stayed still and allowed themselves to be hit. Those that had been in the way of Duo’s weapon exploded in brilliant flashes of light. The others, though, all seemed almost to be waking as their heads raised and the true melee began.

Slash, parry, slash, slash, dodge, slash, parry, slash, dodge, parry, dodge, parry, slash slash dodge parry slashdodgedodgeslashparryslash… Duo lost track of time as he focused on trying to stay alive. The intricate dance of such a fight could never truly be described, particularly when the speed at which things happened began to almost have the motion occur before the idea to initiate it crossed his mind.

Given that there were several hundred mobile dolls and only one Duo, the braided pilot was holding his own fairly well. It was, however, slowly becoming obvious that regardless of what he did here, this would be the end of the God of Death’s supreme reign. Still, pilot 02 fought tirelessly.

Deathscythe’s movements began to slow almost imperceptibly. That small change, though, began to take its toll as the dolls came that much closer to hitting the only occupied suit on the battle field. At last, it seemed that the battle was approaching its end, and that Deathscythe would at last be destroyed, avenging all those it had destroyed.

At that moment… the dolls stopped moving.

“Hey, they’ve stopped moving…” Duo said as he looked around himself, bewildered. “Not that I’m complaining, you know, but hey – I thought we were battling here.” Duo studied the dolls, his fingers not daring to stray from the controls they had been operating moments ago. The beeping sound echoed through Deathscythe’s cockpit, followed by the moniter in front of Duo lighting. The braided boy glanced at it and smiled. “Yo, Trowa!”

“I’ll come and join you. I’ve completed my mission here.” Trowa responded as calmly as ever.

“Roger that.” Duo replied, the grin that had lightened his features brightening a notch. Then, as swiftly as it had come, the joy faded from his face as he noticed the rigidity of Trowa’s posture. “Where’s Quatre?”

“I’m… right here.” The blonde’s voice sounded laboured, as though speaking were difficult for him. His face, when it at last showed on Duo’s moniter, was contorted with pain. Duo slowly released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Okay.” He said. A reassuring smile crossed his face, as much for his own benefit as for that of the two receiving images of him. “When we’re done here, we’ll celebrate with some expensive champagne!”

“That sounds great.” Quatre responded, forcing his own mouth into a tight but nevertheless present grin. “As long as it’s non-alcoholic.”

Duo laughed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ed and Hoenhime, having at long last escaped the dangers of the city, stood in a peaceful if somewhat deserted field. In the sky above them, lights too bright to be stars lit the night sky with the blaze of day. Ed watched the lights as they flashed this way, then that way, and this way again. At the back of his mind, the soft tickle of memories long forgotten arose. The vague and hazy feeling that those lights were somehow familiar wrapped itself firmly around him.

“This world is filled with death.” Hoenhime said as the two observed the flashing lights. Ed’s eyes remained focused on the sky over them. “In this world, they use things known as mobile suits to fight meaningless wars against each other. In the future, even more people will die. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

Ed drew in a breath sharply as the images pressed upon him by the gate flew into the forefront of his mind.

“All these lives from the past and those from the future become the source of alchemy.” Hoenhime continued. Ed’s breathing became ragged, and Hoenhime paused a moment.

“The source…?” Ed repeated confusedly. He took a step towards the man before him, eyes going wide. “What are you talking about? Isn’t alchemy -”

“The Law of Conservation?” Hoenhime finished for his child. He turned at last towards the boy, unable to keep himself from observing how innocent and childlike Ed looked without a body marred by metallic parts. Amazing how time could pass both so slowly and so quickly, how the baby he had once cradled in his arms could have become the young man who stood before him in a world not their own. Hoenhime glanced back at the sky. “To return a broken radio back to what it was, not only do you need the same mass, but you also need the energy to perform the restoration. By ignoring this, it doesn’t follow the Law of Conservation.”

Ed bowed his head.

“The lives dying in this world cross the gate… and provide energy for our transmutations?” Ed asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly. Hoenhime faced his son once more, bringing his left hand to rest against his chest. The boy looked up as he spoke.

“We all have within ourselves a small gate. Alchemists open this gate and connect to this world, to convert lives from here into power.” He replied calmly. Ed’s body contracted slightly for a moment, before exploding forward in anger.

“So you were with that woman!” He shouted at the taller man before him. “’There is no Law of Conversation?’ You two say the same thing…”

Ed allowed his voice to trail off. The anger evident in his stance, however, could not quite mask the hurt in his eyes. Hoenhime’s arm fell back to his side, his shoulders slumping forward as a soft frown took over his expression.

“You’ve met Dante…” He answered quietly.

“I also saw the love letter you sent 400 years ago! You guys extended your lives by switching bodies over and over again! Isn’t that right?” Ed said heatedly, stepping forward. He paused a moment to gather his will power, before staring straight at the man as he asked painfully, “Why… did you marry Mom? Did you want to play around and have a child with some normal person?”

“Because I loved her.” The answer was swift and silent, a well-spring of regret filling it. Ed’s eyes widened as some of the rage fell from his face, the tension of his body escaping at the confirmation of this most hoped for but least feasible reason. Hoenhime took advantage of Ed’s silence to continue. “Your mother… Trisha… I loved her. It was with her that I knew love for the first time.”

“You’re lying!” Ed exclaimed, pulling his anger back into himself. This was, after all, the man who had left his mother to die alone, wishing for his return even with her last breath. How could he possibly know what love was at all? You stay with people you love, and keep them close – you don’t leave them behind. “Then why…”

As Ed started to ask the question which had burned within him for so long, he noticed Hoenhime’s arm slowly lift from his side. Ed stopped, transfixed. Did this man who had the audacity to call himself his father intend to strike him for his impudence? No – the motion was too slow for something like that, too easy to avoid. What could he be…? The arm froze parallel to the ground, and Ed stared in confusion as the other hand rose to grasp the sleeve of the first arm. The sleeve pulled back slowly to reveal the hideous sight of decaying human flesh.

“Because I didn’t want to show you this rotting body.” Hoenhime replied. Ed eyed the decomposing body with growing disgust. It was awful to look upon. Clearly, nothing was without its price – even a life of four hundred years. In spite of himself, Ed couldn’t help but feel the tiniest flicker of understanding for his father.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Both Duo and the other pilots, all three of them, were flying fast towards Libra. It seemed a chunk of it had broken off, and was now headed on a course for collision with the Earth.

“Damn! We’re not fast enough!” Duo cursed as they chased after the falling hunk of space craft. If that massive meteor were allowed to hit the planet, the consequences were unthinkable!

“We’ll have to ruin as much of it as possible to reduce damages to Earth.”

“Wufei!” Trowa exclaimed as Nataku raced past the other gundams. The presence of a buster rifle clenched in its hand was all the response they needed or received. Desperately, they headed onwards. This could not be allowed to happen, not when true peace finally seemed to be possible. It would not!

They arrived at the falling block, and with wordless nods went separate directions. All stores of weapons came into play. This was it. Whatever remained at the end of this battle would be useless anyway. Having leftovers that could have made the difference if used was unacceptable when the price of failure was the end of Earth.

“We’ll smash it to smithereens before it falls on Earth!” Duo declared as he swung his scythe mercilessly at the ship’s walls. A smile covered his face, his eyes glinting determinedly. Destroying things that weren’t in the midst of attacking him? This, he could do.

“One should never give up till the end.” Trowa remarked, launching missiles at nearby walls. “That’s what Heavyarms has taught me.”

“Chance of success is almost nil.” Quatre added, wincing as the pain from the wound Dorothy had given him laced through his body. He ignored, turning Sandrock to continue slashing at walls with his scimitars. “Still, this is better than sitting back and not doing anything.”

Several minutes passed, as they continued to try to break the block. Then, suddenly, the pilots found themselves struggling to maintain their gundams balance as the chunk of Libra rocked from side to side. All was quiet for a few moments, and then a voice crossed their comm.

“I’ve given Heero his buster rifle.” Wufei’s voice said simply.

“We’d better get out of here so we don’t get in Heero’s way.” Quatre replied. The faint sound of cheering echoed through from his com link. Duo and Trowa assented, and all the pilots swiftly extricated themselves from the block.

Once outside, it was immediately clear what Heero would be attempting. Wing Zero flew ahead of Libra as Heero struggled to get a safe distance between the two objects. Then Zero rotated slowly, coming face to face with the block. Heero raised its buster rifle.

“C’mon, Heero, man. You can do this, buddy.” Duo remarked, his voice inordinately quiet. The chunk of Libra that had broken off gained even greater velocity as it came closer and closer to delivering the final strike that would destroy Earth.

Wing Zero wavered slightly, heat shining around its edges as it entered the atmosphere. The entire gundam seemed to tremble, and Heero’s grunt as he struggled for control of it was notably audible. The large space craft loomed menacingly above him, its course as unsteady as his own. Heero fought desperately to maintain the stability of his suit.

“I will… I will…” Duo heard over the com link. Pieces of the gundam were visibly being ripped from it now. The beam cannon leveled at Libra wavered minutely in its aim as the ship followed a similar pattern. “I will… I will survive!”

With that last triumphant shout, a burst of light exploded from the beam cannon’s end, driving itself with massive force into Libra. For a moment it appeared as though the effort was in vain, the remants of the ship clinging to one another. Then, the light of the cannon began to appear on the other side of the ship. Seconds later, the light resolved itself into a single ray as the ship collapsed under the cannon’s power, breaking into smaller, meteor-like chunks.

Ironic, Duo observed to himself, that meteors should be both the beginning and the ending of this war. Duo unobtrusively crossed his fingers, waiting for the light to clear enough for him to see what had become of Heero. The beam began to fade from view, its intensity waning.

“C’mon, buddy, where are you?” Duo asked aloud, his voice low and deep. The light retreated a bit further.

“Heero?” Quatre’s voice came over the com link, instantly solicitous. The blond watched the monitor in front of him worriedly. “Heero, can you here me? Is everything all right?”

“Ngh…” The sound echoed in each pilot’s cockpit. While it couldn’t have quite been described as a cry of pain, it definitively failed to match with Heero’s usual non-responses. When nothing followed, the undercurrent of tension swelled to a feverish pitch. The beam finally gave way.

“Heero!” Several voices shouted at once, for there, falling ceaselessly to the planet below it, was the gundam known as Wing Zero. Its wings hung limply by its sides as it spiraled deeper into the atmosphere. The increasingly thick air, combined with the pressure of the atmosphere, seemed to slightly counteract the effects of gravity. However, it was clear that this alone would not be enough to prevent the mobile suit from having a high velocity impact with the ground.

Before Duo had even realized what he was doing, Deathscythe was rushing into the planet’s atmosphere.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Dante couldn’t create the Philospher’s Stone by herself.” Hoenhime explained simply. “That’s why I’ve been hiding all this time. But, I knew she had her eyes on you.”

“Were you sent beyond the Gate by Dante, too?” Ed asked somewhat incredulously.

“Dante separated my body, mind, and soul in the Gate.” The man remarked. He added almost whimsically, “I think I’ve been wandering for some time, but I managed to make it beyond the Gate.”

So mind, soul, and body could be separated in the gate… Ed contemplated the human flesh of his hand once more.

“This body…” He began, staring at a limb he had never thought to see in any form other than automail. Was it possible that this was not his own body? Could he be in someone else’s body, in this other world? A thought brushed the back of his mind, the image of a boy with long brown hair and unforgettable violet eyes.

“In this world, the difference is that alchemy wasn’t developed.” Hoenhime said, his voice cutting through Ed’s thoughts and drawing him from the memory that had threatened to drown him. “Other than that, it is quite similar to ours. That’s why there is a child that looks like you. Perhaps, somewhere, there is a child that looks like Al.”

Ed looked at the older man askance as Hoenhime turned and began to walk away. Could it be that there was a child here, untouched by the sin they had committed as children? Would fixing Al on his own side of the Gate destroy the Al on this side, if humans from this side fueled alchemical reactions? But wait – how had Hoenhime even known where he was? Unless he had sought him out…

“So you were living at this child’s side?” Ed asked as the man walked slowly past him. It seemed a good way to alleviate one’s guilt – by making up for his faults to the only child he hadn’t failed yet.

“Your body is still inside the Gate.” Hoenhime replied, ignoring his son’s question. His face held in an immobile mask. “Your soul and mind must have been attracted into this Edward’s body, younger than you though it may be.”

A pair of soldiers appeared at the far end of the field from which they had been watching the battle above them. As the two ran towards the blond men, Ed studied his body for a moment. Yes, the features were sharper than his own… and his hand, his leg – they could be made of nothing but flesh! Still, the muscles were weaker than he remembered his being in some time… weaker than before Sensei’s training. The body his soul had landed in could not have been more than twelve years old. The soldiers stopped in front of them and saluted.

“Lady Une needs to speak with you.” One of the two said, leaning close to Hoenhime in an effort not to be overheard. Hoenhime’s face hardened almost imperceptibly, and he followed the two back towards their car.

Ed stood for a moment, frozen in thought. He was younger…? Would Al here be younger, too? Would he even be able to find him? What about - - The familiar face flashed once more before his eyes, taunting him with hints of something he should know. Long brown hair… A braid. Ed shook off his lethargy as Hoenhime began to descend a flight of stairs across the field. He chased after him.

“Please wait!” Ed called as a soldier opened the door to a waiting car for Hoenhime. The taller man paused. Could it be possible that his son had chosen to address him, chosen to speak with him, and was doing so without a trace of anger in his voice? He looked down, keeping his back turned. It would be better this way – Ed may hate him, but at least neither he nor Alphonse would be alone.

“Open the Gate within you...” Hoenhime said, steeling himself as he turned at last to his son. “…and find your own body inside it.”

“You, too, come back!” Ed replied, truly looking at his father for perhaps the first time ever. Hoenhime’s head shook slightly.

“I can’t. My body has already crossed the Gate.” Hoenhime looked away once more, making a gesture with his arm as an excuse to turn his head. A bittersweet smile crossed his face. “In this world, I can’t use alchemy. However, it isn’t too late for you.”

“I’ll do something about it.” Ed said determinedly. He stared harshly at the older man, defying him to think of a reason for him to not at least try. The man raised his head, and glanced entirely too briefly at the man his son was becoming, sharp surprise crossing his features. A quick real smile quirked the edges of his mouth, before fading back into its slightly sour predecessor.

“I will die here… in this body.” Hoenhime answered, his certainty thereof unbreakable. The smile returned for a moment more as he continued, “In this body and shape that Trisha loved.”

Hoenhime seated himself in the car, careful to keep his gaze from wandering to the boy just inside his periphery. “It’s a relief to know that the Law of Conservation isn’t true.” He remarked simply. “You don’t always need to pay a price to gain something. When a parent loves his children, there is no price or reward.”

The four hundred year old’s eyes gazed far into the distance. An aide shut the door, and without further remark from either party, the distance between them began to grow. Funny how such simple lessons were often those that could only be learned when life at last approached its end.

“Even so…” Ed remarked to himself as his father’s car vanished into the distance, putting the man at long last where he had always wanted him. Funny how he didn’t truly want this to happen as he once had. “Even so… if I work hard, what will I gain?”

Ed turned and began to walk slowly down the road before him. Where precisely he was headed he could not have said… Only that the journey needed taking. He sighed softly to himself. Would anyone be equally blessed for making an effort? By paying a price, would anyone receive equal happiness? I want to believe in the Law of Conservation. Reality is - Reality isn’t like that. So even if you call it a theory for children, being childish is fine for me. I don’t want to believe that it’s possible to pay a price and not receive anything.

“A gundam is falling!” exclaimed a voice from the front seat as a loud bang echoed across the land. Ed and Hoenhime turned almost simultaneously towards the source, somewhere equidistant between them. Hoenhime gasped in shock as his mind immediately determined the projected land zone from its trajectory.

“Gundams…” Ed remarked, entranced by the falling machinery. Suddenly, a dam seemed to shatter in his mind. The vague images of a braided baka with deep violet eyes solidified itself in his mind and fleshed itself out. Hundreds of scenes danced across the once vacant corners of his memory, repainting themselves onto the canvas that had once been wiped clear of them. A church – a priest – a boy…

“Kip…” Ed said softly, his attention torn between the recollection of things nearly forgotten and the captivating beauty of an angel falling to Earth, its wings spread wide. He gasped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wing fell faster now, spiraling towards the Earth at an alarming rate. Duo gave chase as quickly as he could in Deathscythe, but even he could see that there would be little, if any effect to his efforts. Still… he had to try.

The ground beneath them slowly began to resolve itself into mountains and plains, into hills, lakes, and forests, into cities and towns. A town – damn it, what would happen if they hit a town? How many could be killed in the process? Presuming Heero managed to survive – and he damn well better, or there would be hell to pay ‘cause no one dies without the God of Death’s permission – how much worse would it be if once more others had gone in his place?

“Ironic…” Duo laughed morosely under his breath, pouring more power than was truly safe into the mobile suit. He stared at the terrain below them. How appropriate that it should end here, of all places on Earth.

“What’s ironic, Duo?” Relena’s voice echoed over the com link.

“It’s the Sanc Kingdom.” Quatre’s cultured tones replied. The blond pilot stared at his screen, watching as one of his friends tried frantically to save the other. “They’re headed straight for the Sanc Kingdom. C’mon, you can do this, Duo, you can catch him…”

But he could not. The ground was approaching too quickly, Duo and the other pilots all knew it. Still, the braided pilot pushed his machine harder, forcing it to an ever quicker – and more dangerous – chase speed. Slowly, steadily, Deathscythe gained on Wing Zero. Below them, a city formed steadily more clearly. To the south, north, and west, there were suburbs and towns – but the eastern border of the city backed onto a forested patch of land.

“Forgive me for this, buddy.” Duo said quietly. He brought Deathscythe on level with Zero, and took a deep breath. Then, he began furiously typing commands as he brought the two gundams into collision, altering their landing vector and pointing it towards the east.

Both gundams spiraled somewhat unstably for a moment. Duo strove to regain control as quickly as he could, working harder at it then he had at anything else, pushing himself further despite his exhaustion. One gundam crashing into the planet at this speed would be bad enough, but two?

Deathscythe shook, twisting this way and that as it fought against gravity, its own acceleration, and the force of the collision with Wing Zero. It struggled, rolled, turned… For a long moment it seemed nearly certain that the braided pilot would be unable to regain control. The ground was rising closer, closer now.

Finally, mere moments before Deathscythe would have collided with the ground, it pulled out of a barrel roll and spun to face the still falling Wing Zero. It stabilized in the air, and Duo looked up at last to watch the outcome of his actions. Zero wouldn’t hit the city, that much was sure. He had managed to avoid a complete disaster – but would it be enough?

Zero revolved in the air as time suddenly seemed to slow, drawing itself out in length. A glimpse of gold on the ground caught Duo’s attention. As Zero began to plow into the Earth, Duo had just enough time to process that it was a person that stood on the road through the forest.

His breath caught in his throat as Wing Zero collided with the ground and the figure, for he could not decide which name to scream.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ed’s gaze, once so focused on the falling objects above him, had misted over as he was captured in the embrace of memories long forgotten. He couldn’t move. Frozen, Ed stared into the distance as thousands of images flooded his mind.

So caught in them was he that he didn’t notice the mobile suit headed straight for him until it was a mere matter of meters above his head.

He clapped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Solo.” Duo breathed the word into existence, his face blanched by shock. A sore left unhealed ached fiercely for a moment before he shook himself, and screamed, “Heero!”

Deathscythe raced towards the ground and landed quickly. Duo sprung from his gundam, dashing towards the flaming wreckage that had once been known as the gundam Wing Zero.

“Heero!” He called frantically as he began searching the wreckage. He started mumbling under his breath. “C’mon buddy, I know you lived through that. You never say things you don’t mean, after all. Now say something so that I can make sure you keep surviving this situation.”

A low moan to his right caught Duo’s attention. He turned and sprinted towards it. There, amongst the scattered pieces of a machine he had once known nearly as well as his own, was the bloody and beaten body of Heero Yuy… who was still breathing.

“Oi, Heero, man!” Duo exclaimed as, after a cursory check for spinal injuries, he scooped up the body of his comrade. “Let’s not do that again, all right?”

The lolling bob of an unconscious head was the only answer he received.


	2. The Sound of One Hand Clapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Pinako briefly gets the spotlight, Ed goes comatose, and Shopkeepers once again prove the nicest people in town.

“All right!” Edward Elric said, rising to his feet. “Here we go!”  
  
Four months had passed since that dark and stormy night when the Elric brothers had gathered their materials and made an attempt at transmuting their mother. Four months since they had arrived at Pinako Rockbell’s doorstep, Alphonse’s body gone and Ed’s in tattered pieces. Four months since it first became obvious just how terrible an idea it had been to let the two wander their road freely. Pinako was not sure she would ever forgive herself for allowing the two of them to go and learn alchemy when she knew that Ed had considered this possibility. Still, there was nothing that could be done for it now.  
  
The road to recovery had been a long one for the diminutive blond. Dealing with an amputation wasn’t an easy thing for anyone, but it had been particularly troublesome for one as young and active as Edward. Giving the boy time to do nothing but brood over his troubles certainly hadn’t been on Pinako’s list of preferred options for him, but his convalescence had given her little choice in the matter. The nerves had to heal at least partially before the automail port could be installed. The port needed to be installed for weeks before the automail itself could be attached. During that time, Ed, with only one arm, one leg, and fierce pride that had never been diminished, had not been capable of going anywhere.  
  
It was, the tiny woman reflected, a vast relief to see the boy up and about, looking for all the world as confident as he had the day the Elric brothers had left with Izumi Curtis to train in alchemy. The first few days after the failed transmutation had been the most worrying. Ed had lain nearly motionless, unconscious most of the time, silent and in pain when awake. His eyes had given him away the entire time, though – guilt and sadness filling their far reaching depths to the very bottom. Alphonse had not left his side once, had neither needed nor wanted to do so… which, all things considered, was probably for the best.  
  
Pinako could still remember her own surprise when the boy at last spoke. His first words had been a request for automail, so that he could become a National Alchemist. For a brief moment she had been undeniably tempted to deny him, fearing that even the loss of his limbs and his brother’s body had not gotten across to him the face that such things simply should not be done. But no, some sense remained in the boy. The pipe dream he clung to now worried Pinako in its own way, though. Edward had already proven he was quite literally willing to give his right arm for his brother. Alphonse would never survive on his own if Ed ever found a way to do what she had no doubts that he planned.  
  
Still, better for Ed to dream, Pinako thought as she watched him testing his new leg and arm. Dreaming impossible dreams would keep him alive long enough to gather more realistic hopes for his future. For the moment, that was enough.  
  
“Are you ready, Al?” Ed asked as he allowed his weight to rest fully on his new leg. A cheerful grin lit his face for the first time in several weeks. The years that had grown on him during his convalescence faded a bit in the brilliant sunlight of that fair fall morning. The giant suit of armor nodded.  
  
“Are you sure this is okay, brother?” Al said. The younger boy turned towards Pinako, the question of his voice echoing as best it could in the armor’s face. She said nothing, merely took a drag from her pipe. “Don’t you want to get used to your automail first?”  
  
“Nah.” Ed answered. He glanced away momentarily as his brother spoke, then looked back with a smile covering his feature. “Besides, you remember what Sensei always taught us.”  
  
“Yes.” Alphonse replied, but his voice remained softer than it might otherwise have been. Ed frowned for a moment before lightly tossing his head.  
  
“C’mon Al!” He said brazenly, putting his hands on his hips as he straightened his shoulders and let his chest puff out slightly. “Even with my automail I shouldn’t beat you too badly.”  
  
“Brother!” Alphonse exclaimed, his voice rising in what could almost have been called a squeal. The corners of Ed’s mouth quirked into something that bore a vague resemblance to a smile. What difference did it make, though? Nothing had been quite real since mother… Ed shook his head.  
  
“Let’s go!” He said, and steeled himself for the first exchange of blows. It would be interesting to see how he faired against Al now. He took a running leap at the suit of armor before him. Armor, god, armor with his brother’s voice and soul attached to it.  
  
The skirmish between the two brothers did not last as long as it once might have. Illness had already diminished Ed’s physical strength. This, combined with Alphonse’s sudden expansion of skill therein, could not have resulted in any other situation. Still… Al worried slightly. Ed’s moves, which had started off smooth and flowing as was their wont, had quickly lost the tight sense of control that the now long haired boy had.  
  
Alphonse watched the loose beams of golden sunshine as they chased after his brother’s head when the older boy turned toward him after a flip. That long hair was yet another reminder of what they had lost, of that which was gone. Alphonse and Edward had cut each other’s hair from the time their mother was too ill to do so. Since that night, Al had only attempted cutting Ed’s hair once. His hands, though, nothing more than metal, were too large, too rough for a task as fine as hair cutting. Consequently, the one cut he had made had left Ed with a jarring set of bangs, poorly angled and clearly not the same length as the rest of his hair. Still, Ed had steadfastly refused to let anyone else touch his hair, claiming that he would simply where it long until Al was restored to normal and could take care of it for him once more.  
  
Ed launched a flying kick at Al’s helmet, hair fanning out behind him. It landed. Ed watched, his expression faintly askew, as Al’s head detached itself, sailing through the air and away from its body. He came to a complete standstill, face cast towards the ground. His back went ramrod straight as the steel of his right hand clenched tightly upon itself.  
  
“Here, Al.” He said as he walked towards it, slowly and stiffly. “Let me get it.”  
  
“Brother…” Alphonse replied, his voice trailing towards the end. The word was softer now, quieter somehow. Ed studiously avoided glancing at the eyes of helm as he retrieved it from the ground and carefully replaced it on the suit of armor. A faint hint of entreaty entered his voice as he repeated, “Brother…”  
  
The smaller being turned his head, allowing wispy strands of corn to block his rust colored eyes from view. The usual golden hue had been dimmed by a core of sadness too strong to be ever completely covered from the world. The rigidity of the boy’s frame held itself tight.  
  
Metal met flesh as Alphonse’s large hand came to rest upon his brother’s arm. Ed glanced up, confusion flashing momentarily across his face before being erased as quickly as it had come. Alphonse held his elder brother’s gaze as long as he could, struggling to convey all that was within him. Ed focused only for a few seconds before he turned his back to the one who knew him best.  
  
“I think that’s enough for today.” Ed remarked, throwing his hands behind his head. “Man, you sure are strong. Much stronger than you used to be. It’s gonna be harder for me to beat you now. Geez.”  
  
Ed started to walk towards the house, never once looking back at the solemn suit of armor that held his brother’s soul. Alphonse watched him go, never once stepping after the now much shorter boy. He had been so excited by the idea that he might someday be the tallest in the family… Alphonse rather supposed that just went to show where wishes got you. Even at that, he found himself wishing his brother would turn to face him. Lessons, it seemed were not something either boy learned easily.  
  
“Hey, Al!” Ed called, glancing quickly over his shoulder after he realized that Alphonse was not clanking after him. He directed his gaze at the river about five meters to the left of Al’s head. “Aren’t you coming?”  
  
“Hm?” Al responded, his voice lilting up in a questioning manner. Then he shook himself slightly, before nodding distractedly. “Oh… yes! Coming!”  
  
Alphonse followed in his older brother’s wake, jogging a bit to catch up before slowing his pace to allow Ed to remain in control of their destination. As Alphonse came up behind his brother, Ed clapped his hands. There was a slight ringing echo that followed in the motion’s aftermath.  
  
“I can’t wait till dinner! Hey, Auntie Pinako –“ Ed began. However, his voice came to an abrupt halt as he brought his hands back to rest against his sides. For a moment there was a steady, horrible silence. Ed’s eyes dimmed slowly. His body, no longer held upright by its owner, began to slowly tilt backwards limply.  
  
“Brother!” Alphonse exclaimed, rushing forward to catch the small body in his own gigantic hands. Winry poked her head briefly out an upper window, then jolted away. Pinako, for her part, rushed forwards. “Brother!”  
  
Ed’s eyes glazed over and stared motionlessly at the sky.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
“What…?” Ed began, groaning in pain as he blinked his eyes open slowly. Above him, the sky showed itself a steely cold gray. Beneath him, the ground felt rough, chill and harsh despite the day’s warmth. The blond propped himself up on one elbow, steadying himself as he lifted his other hand to rub at his temples. Damn, Winry must be better at automail then he had thought to have outfitted him with something that allowed him to feel the cold concrete beneath him. He glanced at his new arm.  
  
“What…?” Ed repeated, shock and wonder creeping into his tone. He stared at the flesh and blood arm that was attached naturally to his shoulder as with a gasp he drew his weight off it and sat straight up. “What the…?”  
  
The blond marveled at it for a long moment. He was stiff, yes, of course he was stiff – he had apparently been sleeping on the ground – but aside from that… Quickly, he reached down and pulled up the left side of his black pants. There, as real and solid as the arm, was an honest to goodness human leg. Slowly, as though afraid that either would break or vanish, Ed brought the flesh of the two into contact.  
  
Aside from a light sense of pressure, nothing happened. They were real.  
  
“Hey, Al!” Ed exclaimed excitedly, jumping to his feet. “Al! Where are you?”  
  
The boy looked around himself eagerly, trying to ascertain his brother’s location. His glance cast itself first left, then right, then left again. Carefully he began to peer around the assorted crates that he had fallen asleep near. Listening carefully, Ed strove to hear his brother betray his hiding place either by a giggle or small motion. The clinking of his armored body would never quite manage to seem quiet. Perhaps though… if his arm was flesh…  
  
“Al!” Ed called, louder now. He began to throw the lighter objects from side to side, the crates moving easily. Slowly, then faster, he tossed them to the different sides of the alley. Where…? “Al!”  
  
“Hey kid, knock it off, will ya?” A voice called. Ed spun around to face the wall behind him, noticing for the first time that it had a doorway on it. Standing in the entrance way was a tall shopkeeper, his hand wrapped firmly around the handle of a long broom. He glared disapprovingly down at Ed, his short brown hair falling into his face as he did so.  
  
“Who…?” Ed began, letting the crate he’d been about to toss slip gently to the ground. The man glanced about the alley way at the scattered crates which had once been piled neatly. The faintest hint of rose tinged Ed’s cheeks. “Ah, sorry about those, mister.”  
  
“Listen, kid,” The man replied, eyes still narrowed at the boy before him. “I don’t care if you wanna sleep out here. Wouldn’t be my first choice, but you’re off the main drag and won’t be scaring my customers away if you do. If you’re gonna mess with my stuff, though…”  
  
“Sleep here?” Ed asked, ignoring the warning as the man’s voice trailed off ominously. “Why would I…?”  
  
The man shook his head before studying Ed, carefully looking him over. Ed’s eyes followed the man’s gaze, taking in his tattered apparel. The shirt he wore was clearly dirty, the pants ripped at the knees. His shoes had clearly seen better days, that could not be denied. Never before had he looked so unkempt to his own eyes, not even right after mother… but no, that wasn’t the point.  
  
“Look.” The shopkeeper said. Ed’s head whipped back to the man. The lines around the man’s brown eyes were softer, less tightly held together than they had been. He waited to be sure he had Ed’s attention before continuing. “Look,” he repeated, “I know you’re not a bad kid. I know life isn’t easy for any of you orphans, and while I don’t really understand why you won’t go to one of the orphanages and get some help, I don’t mind that you prefer to stay here. I can’t let you stay here if you make a commotion like this, though.”  
  
“Have you seen my brother?” Ed asked, pleased that someone at least seemed to know what was happening.  
  
“Brother?” The man repeated, his voice lifting in confusion. He shook his head. “Are you feeling all right, kid? I’ve known you a good two years now, and if you have a brother, I’ve never seen him.”  
  
“You’ve never…” Ed’s eyes widened. He glanced down again at his body. Orphans… Without his notice or permission, the whisper escaped. “Al…”  
  
Without answering the questions clear in the shopkeeper’s winded gaze, Ed stumbled carelessly towards the exit of the alley. Al… Al wasn’t here… Life isn’t easy for any of you orphans… Where…?  
  
“Kid, are you sure you’re all right?” The shopkeeper asked. Ed ignored him, wandering unsteadily away. “Kid! Hey kid!”  
  
The man watched as the boy wobbled from the alley, never once looking back. With a shrug and a sigh, he turned and went back into the building. Maybe tonight he could offer the boy any leftovers they had, just to make sure he got a good meal. He’d seemed paler than usual after all. Resolving not to let it bother him, the shopkeeper returned to his usual daily activities.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
How long he wandered aimlessly through the streets of the unfamiliar town, Ed couldn’t say. He ambled from street to street, pulled by the drift of the crowd without ever once choosing a destination. Truthfully, he didn’t know where to go… What had happened? Where was Al?  
  
“Watch where you’re going, shorty!” A tall businessman shouted at him as they collided. Ed looked at him for a moment, blinked twice. The man gave him an irritated sigh before pushing past him. “Little brat.”  
  
Ed stared after the disappearing gray suit, eyes wide. The crowd closed between them, and still Ed didn’t move. For a moment the crowd flowed around him as people tried to be polite, but it wasn’t long before people were again bumping into him, jostling Ed this way and that. At last, the blond boy was shoved hard enough that he stumbled forward, allowing his momentum to carry him forward as he began walking again.  
  
A bit later, Ed found himself no longer caught in the rush of people. He paused for a moment, blinking several times, before realizing that he stood in a park of sorts. A set of children’s swings was situated across the way, as well as a slide and several benches. For lack of a better idea, he wandered over towards a bench and sat, allowing his head to drop back so that he was staring up at the sky. Far above him, the light of day had begun at last to dim.  
  
What had happened…? Al and I were just practicing like usual… and then… How could I have come to be here? Where could Al be? Ed stared blankly at the sky, which neither offered nor asked him anything. Instead, the newly arrived stars merely twinkled merrily, harmless but silent. I walked towards Auntie Pinako, and was going to ask her about dinner. I clapped, and then…  
  
Edward struggled to prevent himself from calling out in pain as images dashed haphazardly across his memory. The gate… He remembered that gate. How could he ever forget it, forget that horrible night? Its imposing structure had etched itself onto the very fiber of his being, the eye of its center gazing endlessly back at him. The gate… The gate had opened! Even Ed, stoic as he was, could not stifle the gasp that slipped from him with that realization.  
  
Is this the other side of the gate? Ed wondered as he looked back down at his hands. Did that explain the mystery? Had that… thing decided that his arm and his leg weren’t payment enough? He could recall all too clearly the sense of being somehow crushed or compacted, of being tossed and thrown from side to side… and finally of colliding with the very body from which he now found himself seeing the world. How do I get back?  
  
Ed focused his gaze on his hands. A memory drifted across his mind of a shrewish woman with a violent temper. Sensei… She had done alchemy without the use of a transmutation circle… by clapping. Was that what had caused this new reaction? Could he just clap himself back to the other side of the gate, and wake up with Al, and Winry, and Auntie Pinako there, as though nothing had happened… Slowly, he brought his hands up, and swung them towards one another.  
  
No! The mental exclamation was harsh and unbending. Ed’s hands froze in mid air, merely fractions of an inch apart. Slowly, they lowered to his sides. He had no way of knowing what would happen, had no way of offering the gate its toll this time. It had already taken what he held most valuable from him, surely getting that back wouldn’t be easy. And Al… Al still needs me to get his body back, like I promised I would.  
  
Ed’s left hand gripped the right one, ascertaining once more that there really wasn’t an automail there. He gazed up once more at the sky, staring into the vast horizon of space. The night had been clear, but clouds were starting to form on the horizon. Ed sighed, his brow furrowing. A night in the rain…  
  
“What is that?!” Ed exclaimed loudly, jumping to his feet as something passed overhead. High above him, in amongst the clouds, floated a definitively man made object. Ed scrambled onto the bench, straining his neck in an effort to get a closer look at the strange craft.  
  
“Hey, Kid, look out!” A voice shouted at him moments before a ball collided with his right arm. The pain was oddly reassuring. Jarred from his thoughts yet again, Ed turned towards the newest interruption into his day. Before him stood a man with relatively short, light brown hair and crystal blue eyes. His clothing was all in black, and around his neck hung a symbol of sorts that looked like a lower case t.  
  
“What?” Ed remarked, glaring down at the man. The corners of his mouth quirked in silent amusement for a moment, before disappearing as Ed carefully considered the person before him. He looked rather like a priest… but perhaps he would know what those things had been anyway. Still… Without compromising his dignity, Ed jumped gracefully to the ground.  
  
“Sorry about that, are you all right?” The man asked quickly.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ed replied. He looked the… priest over once more, than turned his face skywards again. The man beside him looked at him intently for a moment, than allowed his own eyes to follow Ed’s gaze.  
  
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” He queried. Ed quirked an eyebrow and glanced at him for a moment before looking sharply towards the ship. He edged slightly to his left, putting a bit more distance between himself and the man, who seemed not to notice. “The stars always seem to twinkle more brightly just before a weather cycle.”  
  
“Weather cycle?” The question escaped before Ed had a chance to quash it. He cursed his native curiosity as the man gave him an unusual look.  
  
“Are you all right, kid?” The man asked, his brows furrowing together as a tiny frown appeared on his face. “It’s just a weather cycle, you know, where it rains for a bit to make sure the vegetation on the colony continues to grow properly.”  
  
“Colony?” Ed’s features became stormy for a moment before he schooled them into a semblance of normalcy and glanced skyward, pretending not to have spoken at all. The man took a step towards him, reaching out his arm.  
  
“Yes, Colony L2. Is something the matter?” The man paused before continuing, “You didn’t think we were on Earth, did you?”  
  
A quiet gasp resounded in the night air as Ed’s face shifted swiftly to shock before being carefully schooled again. The priest tilted his head to look at the shorter boy for a moment, nodded once, then glanced back to the stars. Ed resolutely focused his gaze on the heavens, even as the clouds began to obscure the stars from view.  
  
“Listen kid, you want a bit of free advice?” The man asked patiently, his gaze never flickering towards the child that stood at his side. “Wherever you’re from, wherever you’re going doesn’t matter right now. L2 can be a dangerous place if you’re not careful, shorty.”  
  
“Who are you calling too short to take care of himself?!” Ed said, turning immediately to glare at the man with all his might, shouting at the top of his voice. For a moment he began to swing his arms at the man... His left fist went forward in an upper cut motion, as such things tend to do when swung. Ed’s face flickered with surprise again for a brief moment, before he withdrew the arm and crossed it with its mate in front of his chest. He stood stock still for a moment, the said calmly, “I can take care of myself.”  
  
“I don’t doubt that you can.” The priest said, throwing his hands up in a no harm no foul sort of gesture. Ed glared at him ceaselessly for a moment, before looking up once more. The contraption could still be seen at a distance, its lights flickering more and more. The man in the black outfit seemed to consider topics of conversation for a moment before remarking, “Are you a fan of space travel?”  
  
“I wouldn’t know.” The blond boy replied, refusing to look at the man again. He continued, “I’ve never done it.”  
  
“Really?” The man replied. His voice had a bit of a lilt to it, not quite disbelieving but at the same time acknowledging that what was said might not have been the whole truth. “Listen – “  
  
The man took another step closer to Ed, who instinctively jerked from his reach. The boy looked at the priest standing before him, then glanced again at the sky. He turned his head back towards the street, looked at the priest once more, and then took off down the road.  
  
“Kid!” The man called running after him as the heavens opened. “Hey, c’mon, don’t be like that!”  
  
Ed dashed back down the streets he barely remember, going this way and that. Once his pursuer had been successfully shaken, he slowed to a walk. As he wandered idly, Ed eventually noticed he was in an area that looked vaguely familiar. A quick glance down an alley assured him that he was indeed in the right place.  
  
The blond boy walked into the alley, then seated himself in the protective overhang of the doorway. The rain fell just so, narrowly avoiding the small boy in his hideaway. Ed shifted slowly from side to side restlessly for a few minutes before settling at last, his head tilted back against the doorway, body turned inward.  
  
“Here.” A voice said as the door opened, Ed falling in with it. The man from earlier that day stood looking down at him. In his hands, he held a bowl of soup with steam still rising from it. He stuck the bowl in Ed’s hands, and watched as Ed stared at it. “We had extra.” The man continued in an easy going manner. “If you don’t drink it, we’ll have to throw it away.”  
  
“Thanks.” Ed said, smiling slightly at the man towering above him. He sipped the soup slowly, allowing it’s warmth to seep through the bones that he had not as yet even noticed the cold controlled. After all, Ed reflected, it counts as equivalent trade if by drinking the soup I spare them the effort it would take to get rid of it.  
  
When he was finished, the shopkeeper took the bowl back from him, and shut the door. He did not offer any form of garb to keep the chill from returning, seemingly aware of the fact that it would be rejected instantly. Ed nodded in satisfaction – equivalent trade. He curled against the door once more and fell asleep.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
“Kip Kierland, you get back here!” A cheerful voice shouted with mock anger. The owner of the voice, a tall woman with grey eyes and long brown hair bound tight in a braid, leaned carefully into the rain. “Kip, come back!”  
  
“But Sister Helen!” A tiny ball of energy dressed in jeans and a warm blue pullover turned around for a mere moment before bouncing further into the wet weather. “Sister Helen, there won’t be another storm for weeks! I gots to enjoy this one while it’s here, right?”  
  
“Kip, really, I don’t think –“ She began. However, the rest of her thought was cut off the distant appearance of a lone figure walking back towards the house whose doorway Sister Helen occupied. The woman bit her lip for a moment, then turned and went inside, calling as she did, “Kip, come now, or else you can explain to Father Jacob why you’re all wet.  
  
“Thanks Sister Helen!” The boy, as the ball of energy now revealed itself to be a child, flashed a toothy grin in the woman’s direction before proceeding to jump into a nearby puddle. He continued in that manner for some time, leaping from one puddle to the next, making the biggest splash possible each time.  
  
Slowly, steadily, the man walked down the road to the house. The house itself was fairly non-descript, its white paint and blue shutters truly nothing to remark upon, save if one wished to comment on their current state of semi-disrepair. Around it stood a wrought iron fence, a mere three feet tall with a gate that latched at the tip top. Beside it to one side was a church, rather old but nevertheless serviceable. To the other side was a graveyard. A basic plague over the door read in simple, black lettering, “Maxwell Orphanage”.  
  
“Guess what, Father Jacob, guess what?” The small boy exclaimed, violet eyes flashing with delight as the man at last entered the gate. Kip rushed into Father Jacob’s waiting arms as the man bent down to scoop him up. He grinned widely with delight as the man placed him gently on his shoulder before proceeding to the door.  
  
“What, Kip?” The man replied, smiling at the child. His crystal blue eyes flashed sadly for a moment before returning to joy. Kip, oblivious, threw his arms around the priest’s neck.  
  
“It’s raining!” The boy exclaimed jubilantly. Father Jacob laughed for a moment as he closed the door behind them.  
  
“Why, so it is, Kip.” He replied, a sad smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “Why, so it is.”


	3. Solitary Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Solo and Kip get clarified a bit, Father Jacob gets a shock, and Sister Helen gets Solo to obey her whims.

“Father Jacob!” A light tenor voice called across the yard as the tall man once again re-entered his gate, closing it behind him. “Father Jacob! Guess what?”

“What, Kip?” Father Jacob replied, the tired wrinkles in his face smoothed by the smile that graced it instead. The eight year old dashed from his seat on the swings to stand before the priest, jumping up and down in delight. “Has something interesting happened?”

“That boy is here again!” Kip answered. His violet eyes danced with delight. “Sister Helen said to be sure to tell you soon as you gots back, so I did!”

“Really?” The priest smiled at the boy before him. He lifted his head and glanced towards the open doorway, half expecting the blond to be waiting there to greet him. No, the doorway was empty. The grin flickered from his face for a moment, before carefully reasserting itself. “Has he been waiting long?”

“No, only a few minutes.” Kip answered cheerfully enough, but his violet eyes darkened slightly. He paused a moment, then asked, “Hey, Father Jacob, is something wrong?”

Father Jacob laughed and tousled the boy’s hair lightly. His fingers slid easily through the short brown hair, just long enough to brush the child’s collar. It would need to be cut again soon. Kip protested slightly as his head was forced this way and that by the pressure on his scalp. Then the priest straightened, and gave him a gentle shove.

“Go play with the others, Kip.” Father Jacob said gently. The boy’s eyes searched him for a moment before he nodded and dashed back across the lawn to rejoin the game of kickball the kids were having. Father Jacob watched him go, smiling, before turning towards the door. As he twisted the knob and opened it, the cheery look slipped from his features, lines deepening once more as a frown creased his brow.

The hallway that the door opened into was lit only by the sun streaming dimly into it through nearby windows. A small table situated under a mirror sat simply next to a chair, a basic white table cloth with a wooden rosary atop it resting on the table’s surface. To the right stood a room with a multicolored rug that had faded with time. In it stood a play pen that had seen better days which held two small children, who together played with a few large building blocks. To the left, a room with a fireplace and a couple of couches scattered throughout it had shadows creep into it as the day headed towards its end.

Father Jacob took off his coat, hanging it upon the rack that stood just inside the doorway. He walked swiftly to the bend in the hall, and placed his hand on the doorknob. He paused for a second, looking at the floor and allowing the darkness of the far end of the hall to hide his face momentarily. Then, without a second thought, the priest lifted his head and swung the door open.

The warmth of the room rushed to greet him, delicious scents filling the man’s nose. Kitchens seemed to always be the best rooms in a house – the vibrancy and lived in sense they created could be duplicated by few, if any, other locations. The priest nearly sighed in relief as he spotted his visitor seated at the table, a mug of tea clenched in his hands as he made idle conversation with Sister Helen.

“So, Solo, what trade brings you here today?” Two heads swung round to greet him, the woman’s clearing cheerfully even as the blond boy frowned. Father Jacob walked towards the table and gracefully seated himself as Sister Helen quickly filled another mug with tea and passed it to the priest. He nodded at her gratefully.

“The usual.” The boy replied, choosing then to watch silently as the older man took a sip. The warm liquid couldn’t quite reach the spot in the pit of his stomach that had gone cold.

“A cup of tea for a bit of information, then?” The priest queried. The boy before him nodded, still not proffering any further words as the man before him considered this. The priest inclined his head toward the boy, crystal eyes meeting golden ones head on as he remarked, “Well, you’ve got your tea, shorty.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU’D NEED A MICROSCOPE JUST TO SEE HIM?” The boy shouted as he jumped to his feet. Father Jacob laughed quietly and waited for the golden haired one before him to find his chair again. Several minutes later, with a belabored and put upon sigh, the boy seated himself. He took a swig of tea, then remarked, “It’s serious this time.”

The lines carved themselves deeper into Father Jacob’s face. “Have they finally realized?”

“What, that you aid and abet a gang?” The slight frame shook with what might generously have been referred to as a laugh. “They’re not bright enough for that, no. This is worse.”

“What is it?” The priest asked, staring at the child before him as a humorless smile crossed the boy’s face.

“The Alliance.”

The words echoed in the priest’s mind, as did the telltale clink of china the came as the dish Sister Helen had been washing slipped from her grasp back into the sink. What could the Alliance possibly want from them? They were just a church like any other, they hadn’t done anything that would bring the wrath of the government upon them, had they? Unless…

“It’s the communication links, isn’t it?” Father Jacob said, horror spreading itself neatly across his face as his eyes went wide. The boy blinked, and the man’s expression had returned to normal. “They know that we still have them, that we still can and do use them. After all, the government has stayed separate from religion, and they can’t take away our lines without problems. They want them gone, don’t they?” He paused dangerously, a wolfish smile lacing his face. “Well that’s just too bad for them.”

“Father Jacob –“ The boy protested, lifting his arms almost beseechingly from the teacup his hands had been cradling on the table towards the man. He let them fall to the table a second later and focused his eyes on the dregs floating in his cup. For a moment he remained silent. Behind him, Sister Helen had resumed washing the dishes, her motions by far more cautious then they had been, but steady nevertheless. As he spoke, though, he raised his eyes once more, mischief twinkling in them. “Anything I can do to help?”

The man winked at him. An evil little smile quirked its way onto the kid’s face as Father Jacob rose to his feet and beckoned to follow him. The two exited the kitchen door, and walked quickly across the small hallway. Father Jacob glanced briefly up and down the hall to make certain that no one would come upon them, and then motioned for the younger one to remain where he was as he retrieved the rosary beads from the table in the center of the hall and returned to his place at the boy’s side.

“Father Jacob?” The boy asked curiously but quietly. The priest showed him the beads, allowing the longer part to drop as he held tight to the crucifix. With sure and steady hands, the man inserted the cross into a tiny crack in the back wall which Father Jacob’s companion could not recall having seen earlier. He then twisted it swiftly to the right.  

The blond boy’s eyes widened as he discerned a quiet click. Father Jacob looked about the hall once more before tugging lightly on the rosary. The wall, which heretofore had seemed to be a single complete piece, now swung open about a hinge in its center. The kid darted quickly around the priest and to the other side of the wall as the priest twisted the rosary back to the left and pulled it from the wall before heading through himself.

“This way.” The priest said, shutting the wall behind them.  

From a pocket, Father Jacob retrieved a book of matches, which he used to light a candle that had been hanging by the door. Its small flame flickered ominously in the enclosure, the sphere of its light extending just far enough to reveal a flight of stairs. The upper part of the staircase had been constructed from wood, just as the rest of the orphanage had. Once they passed ground level, however, it switched quickly to stone.

“The orphanage wasn’t always an orphanage, you know.” Father Jacob remarked after they had descended several feet. The one called Solo raised an eyebrow. “No, really. During the first uprising of the colonies, L2 managed to free itself of martial rule for a bit. What you’re about to see is something the Alliance has been hunting for decades.”

“You can’t mean –“ The boy said, inhaling sharply as he focused intently on the back of the man’s head. Father Jacob obligingly turned to give the young man a glimpse of his eyes before nodding sharply and facing forwards once more.

The stairs descended deep into the ground, before flattening into a long, narrow passageway. The pair crept silently through the corridor, at whose end shimmered a glowing light. They approached it, the younger of the two visibly flinching into the bright glare as they passed through the archway at the end of the passage. His eyes widened.

It should have been more impressive, really, the boy reflected as he stared at the monitor before him. The room that held it certainly was. The long, graceful table made of mahogany could easily have seated twelve, and would certainly not have been out of place in any board room. The monitor, though, was old and simple, having aged well and gracefully but nevertheless having distinctly aged. A lone chair had been drawn from the head of the table, and cordoned off at the far end of the room.  

“Heero Yuy himself once sat there.” Father Jacob said, gesturing with his free hand at the chair. The braided one wandered over to it, resting his hand lightly on it for a moment, before striding closer to the monitor.

“The make is pretty old, twenty, twenty one years or so. The wires on this side are so thin from use that they’re about the same size as the ones we use today.” He turned to regarded the priest measuringly. “Faking the actual connection will be the hard part. They’ll probably check the system to be sure they’re at the right place, and to see if they can find the location of any of the others. I could…”

The younger of the two allowed his voice to trail as he studied the interaction of the wires and switches, turning the screen on and off several times repeatedly. Father Jacob watched silently, remaining in the doorway even as his companion plucked at several of the wires, moving them this way and that. After a long moment, he spoke again.

“You can do it?” The priest’s voice, normally so jocular, sounded almost completely flat. Only the lingering edge of something uncertain tinged it unpleasantly, breaking it from uniformity. A blond head looked quickly up from the screen before it, pausing for a moment before nodding once, swiftly, and then returned to fiddling with the wires. Father Jacob sighed tiredly. “All right, name your trade.”

Gold-flecked eyes turned to bore into pale blue ones. The blue glanced away first, their owner blowing out his candle and sitting in a nearby chair as he resisted feeling the full weight of the stare upon him. Silence fell over the chamber, before the golden eyes refocused on the wiring. Two flesh hands carefully separated and examined connections.

“The materials, of course.” A voice said at last. The younger man ceased his endlessly toying with the wires, turning around as an arrogant air swept into him. “Can’t do anything without the proper materials. If you can get one of the limited comms they have, and some wire cabling, I should be able to make it work from that. My skills are, as always, yours at the price of dinner and a cup of tea.”

“Don’t suppose you’ll let us put milk in the tea this time, eh shorty?” Father Jacob watched the predictable explosion with a hint of mirth quirking up the corners of his mouth. For someone who was so calm, Solo’s buttons – once you knew the right ones – were remarkably easy to push.

“My silence comes at a higher price.” The boy said, once he finally stopped rambling about who was he calling a tiny bean, anyway? The priest turned to him, regarding him carefully with a fixed and steady look.

“What more could you want then our continued silence about your gang’s activities?” Father Jacob replied. The boy’s gaze didn’t flicker. Interesting… “You know, kid, where I come from, silence in exchange for silence is considered an equivalent trade.”

“I know.” Golden eyes flickered for a moment, before carefully going over the priest’s features once more. Finally, the glittering orbs reflected once more into the man’s eyes, before casting far into the distance. “What you need done? I can do it… but I need your guarantee that you won’t say a word about how it was done.”

The priest watched as tension stretched itself across the young man’s shoulders. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that this fiery soul really was a child, for all he proclaimed himself an adult. Father Jacob rose to his feet and approached the boy cautiously, much as one would approach a frightened animal. The boy’s natural skittishness, and resistance to physical contact, had only grown with him, rather than vanishing as the priest had once hoped they would.

Slowly, gently, Father Jacob extended a hand and turned the boy’s face towards his own. The fairer skinned one tensed a bit more, small lines on his face becoming steadily more apparent. Still, he met the stare head on, refusing to allow his fear to show. Father Jacob’s respect for the young man in front of him grew.

“Why do ya need it, kid?” He asked, careful to keep his own voice steady and soft. The child regarded him carefully. For a long moment, Father Jacob was certain that the boy would say no more, perhaps even that he would bolt as he had the first time they had met, over a year ago. Then the child’s gaze fell to the side, and the priest’s patience was rewarded.

“You asked me a question, once, when I told you that I no longer believe in god.” The boy’s hands clenched into fists. “You asked me if I had never seen a miracle occur, and promised me that when I saw something change right before my eyes, something that seemed impossible, then I would be able to understand who god is.”

“Yeah, kid, what’s your point?” The priest asked, the soft sound of his voice lessening the impact of the terse words. He allowed his hand to drop once more to his side, allowing the blond discretion over where he chose to look.

The boy stared at the ground, lapsing into silence once more. Then he continued, his voice slightly less steady, “You had the problem wrong, Father. The problem wasn’t that I’d never seen something change right before my eyes. The problem has always been that I’ve seen too much change.”

“Solo…” The priest said softly. He started when he realized that his hand had, entirely without his permission, begun to reach for the younger one. Carefully, he pulled it back to his side, waiting for whatever would come next.

“They say seeing is believing, don’t they, Father?” The blond queried quietly. His right hand slipped into his pocket, and from it he withdrew a single piece of chalk. The boy stepped towards the monitor, and slowly began to draw a wide circle around it.

“Listen, kid, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but –“ Father Jacob began as the blond one superimposed a pair of triangles over the circle, crisscrossing the monitor to do so. Fathomless eyes glanced back at him for a moment, all motion halting. The priest paused. True, no spark of mischief lit the child’s eyes, and to be sure he had proven himself trustworthy so far… Could he allow this, all the possible destruction of what he and so many others had worked so hard to protect?

The older man nodded his head, and the boy resumed his chalk drawings. Graceful lines of white, drawn with a swift and steady hand, soon covered the wall before him, filling in the circle neatly. The symbols were myriad and variant. Some of them Father Jacob recognized from his days in the seminary, others were completely beyond the scope of his knowledge. Still, the system, the pattern, seemed somehow to be in balance.

At length, the hand holding the chalk came to rest loosely by the boy’s side. He turned and looked at the man for a moment, before remarking quietly, “Believe me.”

Father Jacob had to turn his face away from the bright flash of light that followed that statement. He had just enough time to observe the boy’s finger’s resting on the outside of the circle, brilliant eyes closed as though in preparation, before a gleaming blue light shone forth from the circle. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from it, only to realize it had faded once more.

“What the hell?!” Father Jacob said, striding forward to grab the boy by one of his shoulders as he pulled him to his feet and shook him slightly. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what you just did, but pulling dangerous shit like that – Kid, what the heck were you trying – You’ve just scared several years off my life, I hope you know – I can’t understand what –“

“Look.” The boy said, his nonchalance remarkably irritating as he quickly extricated himself from the older man’s grasp. He stepped sideways a few paces, then gestured back at the machine. Slowly, the priest turned his head back towards the place on the wall where the old monitor had hung.

“What…?” The priest started, staring at the wall. The circle remained, certainly, its lines intersecting and crossing just as they had mere seconds ago. The monitor, though, had changed drastically. The years had faded from it, the cabling shone as it had the day it had first been placed there, and even the small cracks the frame had developed over time were gone.

Startled, he turned once more to the mysterious boy, wondering not for the first time how much he really didn’t know about the child. The boy gave him a wink, and allowed a gleam of mischievousness to dance across his eyes as he smirked at the priest.

“More things in heaven and earth, Father Jacob.” He said simply as he threw his arms open expansively and seated himself in the chair nearest the monitor. Father Jacob allowed his jaw to drop in amazement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Children, come inside now!” Sister Helen called into the yard. The boys and girls of the Maxwell Orphanage laughed merrily as they happily ignored their caretaker, chasing one another around the small yard. The woman sighed, running a hand lightly over the top of her hair and down her simple plait. She muttered under her breath, “Kind Lord, grant me patience.”

“Michael, Gabriel, John!” The woman shouted, cupping her right hand at the side of her mouth as she leaned out the window a bit further. “Liselle, Julia, Annette! Nina, Kip! The weather cycle will be starting soon, and dinner’s almost ready! Come inside!”

“But Sister Helen!” The children whined collectively at her. She gave them a stern look, as though daring the little ones to disobey her. Reluctantly, they one by one turned and headed for the kitchen door.

“Kip Kierland! Nina Tucker! You two get off those swings and come in here right now!” Sister Helen yelled insistently as the two remained seated, swinging steadily higher and higher. Nina giggled and let go of the swing she had been swinging on. She flew through the air for a moment before sticking a perfect landing and dashing into the house. Sister Helen smiled at her benevolently before shouting once more, “Kip!”

“Coming, Sister Helen!” The child responded. Unlike his companion, Kip waited until the swing slowed to a stop before rising from it and walking at a snail’s speed toward the door. The nun pulled her head back into the house and shut the window. Kip trudged inside, closing the door carefully behind him just as the rain started to pour from the sky.  

Sister Helen shook her head exasperatedly as she reached carefully over the boy’s head to lock the door behind him.

“Now really, Kip,” she said, giving him the infamous look of disappointment that never failed to make recalcitrant children behave, “is it really that much of a problem for you to come inside the house the first time I call? I know you like to play in the rain, but if you do that then you’ll have to change into dry things and make me do more laundry.”

“I’m sorry, Sister!” The boy replied even as a wide and unapologetic grin split his face. The nun stared at him at length until her resolve broke and she found herself smiling as well. She gave him a hug, then ruffled his hair gently.

“Go on, you, get out of here.” She shooed him easily from the kitchen. Kip ran off laughing, following in the other children’s wake. Sister Helen sighed to herself, the corners of her lips turned bemusedly upward as she resumed peeling potatoes. Some days she really had to wonder what would become of that scallywag.

Carefully, Sister Helen began boiling water, and dumped the peeled potatoes into the water. Stepping to her right, she grabbed hold of her long wooden spoon and carefully resumed stirring the soup. Hopefully she would be able to convince Solo to bring some back with him this time. After all, it’s not like those children he looks after ever get real home cooking, she considered idly.

Solo was a wild card – had been from the first day she had heard of him. Sister Helen could still remember the day Father Jacob had trudged back from the market, looking tired and confused. He’d had smiles for the children as always, but when at last they had all been shuffled off to bed, he had sat beside her in the kitchen and sipped tea. For a long time, he had been unusually quiet, lost in his thoughts, and she had been unable to find it in her heart to disturb him.

“I met a strange child today.” He had said at last, still gazing into the distance. Startled, she had glanced up from her tea to stare at him.

“A child?”

“Yes,” he’d replied, an odd smile curling the corners of his mouth, “a young boy. I wonder if I’ll see him again.”

“Hmm…” She’d answered noncommittally, wonder what could possibly be so interesting about a single young boy. The same pattern had repeated for several weeks, with Father Jacob every so often returning to the orphanage with an odd grin on his face. After the first couple of times she’d been able to tell at a glance precisely what had happened that day. Still, in spite of her best efforts, she knew nothing more about the boy then that he was young and strange.

Then came the day when the priest had not returned alone.

“Solo, this is Sister Helen. Sister Helen, this is Solo.” He had said by way of introduction. The boy was young, certainly. To judge by the look of him she’d imagined him to be no more than ten. Still, the scowl etched on his face and the shadows in his eyes suggested that perhaps it was his height and shaggy blond hair that belied the truth of him.

“Welcome to Maxwell House, Solo.” She had said, smiling encouragingly at the boy. She’d been surprised when he looked almost more disgruntled then he had before, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Listen, don’t get the wrong idea, sister.” He had replied, clearly forcing the effort to be polite to her. He glanced sideways at the man beside him, a Father Jacob whose smile seemed only to annoy the boy. Crossing his arms, the child had declared irritably, “Look, I’m just here for a cup of tea, ok? Then I’m leaving.”

“Of course.” She had answered, taken aback. “Come right in.”

After that first meeting, Sister Helen had seen Solo fairly frequently. The deal Father Jacob had worked out with the boy struck her as odd at first, although it certainly was extremely beneficial to the orphanage. Solo, a street rat through and through, garnered little to no attention from the officials on the streets. The poor had always been invisible – Solo, it seemed, had figured out a way to make that useful at last.

“He trades in information.” Father Jacob had explained to her that first evening, when she had looked at him confusedly as she cleaned the tea cups from the table. A wicked smile had crossed the priest’s lips. “Apparently looking young and innocent goes a long way towards finding out things people would rather you didn’t know.”

“But he’s only a child!” She had protested, only to cut herself short as the holy man shook his head.

“He may not have much in the way of physical age,” the man had replied, “but that one hasn’t been a child in a long time. He’s seen too much, been through to much, with no one there for him.” Father Jacob had shaken his head. “I don’t know who was supposed to be looking out for that one, but they’ve really mucked it up.”

Sister Helen had frowned pensively. What could possibly have happened to one so young…? And his name…?

“Solo…?” She had queried aloud, her voice a shade softer than it had been, concern coloring it.

“He wouldn’t give me a name for him, so I gave him one. Kid said that he liked the sound of it, though.” Father Jacob said with a shrug. The roguish grin on his face lost a hint of its humor. “It just seemed appropriate, since he always wants to do things alone. Won’t take anything without what he considers “equivalent trade”, but more often then not the trade is fair to everyone but him.”

“Poor boy…” Sister Helen had murmured. The father had had nothing to say in return.

Now, several months later, Solo’s face had become a familiar one here at the Maxwell Orphanage. He never stayed longer than a cup of tea if he could avoid it, and yet he came back quite frequently for one who claimed to completely distrust them. She knew from Father Maxwell’s chatter that the boy’s usual price of information differed greatly from the cost he charged them. It had risen once he started taking in strays.

At first it had just been cats. Sister Helen had never figured out what it was that the boy found so fascinating about the small animals, especially given how tough he liked to act. Still, even a boy named Solo would be sure to experience loneliness, and cats made as good a companion as any.

Then came the dogs. Remarkably, Solo had been able to keep the natural enemies from attacking one another. One of them, a personal favourite of the boy, was a medium sized black one with a white nose and paws whom he called Den. Den followed Solo wherever he went, and could at times be quite fierce in defense of the boy. More than once the dog itself had only narrowly escaped injury.

Finally, it had been people. The runaways, the orphans – all the children who either had no one to turn to or were too old or proud to ask for help. Sister Helen had never figured out which class Solo himself belonged to… In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. His network of information ran from an abandoned warehouse that no one seemed to own, and that served as shelter for all the members of it and then some. It worked on the principle of equivalent trade, like everything else that Solo seemed to do. In exchange for loyalty and a little bit of work, Solo made sure that everyone’s basic needs got taken care of.

Loyalty had never been a problem for Solo, really. He seemed to command it without even asking for it nine times out of ten.

Still, Sister Helen reflected as she tested her stew one last time before straining the potatoes, I do wish he would accept more in exchange for all of the help that he gives to us.

The sound of the wall creaking alerted Sister Helen to the return of Father Jacob and Solo. Idly she wondered what his response would be to the system, if any. Solo being who he was, it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he had already figured out their secret. She heard the rosary beads fall to the table in the main hallway and turned to face the men as they walked into the room.

“Father…?” She asked curiously, staring at his wild-eyed expression. The priest shook his head amazedly as Solo shrugged ambiguously and began to gather his coat.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days to finish the job, if you can acquire the necessary parts between now and then.” The boy said, his golden eyes wandering over Father Jacob in an attempt to measure heaven only knew what.

“Yes, of course.” The shell shocked man managed. Sister Helen glanced quickly between them, debating if it were more important to worry over Father Jacob or convince Solo to stay until the older man had been brought out of his state. Solo made her decision for her as he headed towards the door.

“Solo!” She exclaimed sharply, and he turned back to look at her inquisitively. “It would seem I’ve made too much stew tonight. The children have never had particularly large appetites, and I would hate to have to throw away this much food. If you would be willing to wait for me to put some in a container for you and the others, I’d be very grateful to have it put to good use.”

Solo met her eyes unflinchingly and shook his head defeatedly, perhaps having anticipated this as much as she had. Then again, Sister Helen had never once let the boy out of the house without a bit of home-baked goods for the children he looked after. She doubted Solo ever ate any of them himself… which was, of course, why she was a lady with a plan.

“Would you call the children for me?” She asked innocently as she began ladling the stew into a series of bowls.

“Of course.” Solo replied, then proceeding to do so. He wandered into the hallway and called up the stairs, “Kids! Dinner!”

When Solo re-entered the kitchen, Sister Helen was ready and waiting for him. She pounced as quickly as one of the cats the boy was so fond of, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him into the chair next to the priest. He started to struggle a bit, began to rise from his seat, but she cut him off at the pass.

“Now then, Solo, since you’re doing me a favour and finding a home for all of this stew, and because you were so good as to call the children to dinner, I insist that you accept the equal payment of a meal here with us.” She said sweetly, but with an undeniable and unyielding steel in her voice as she placed a bowl of the warm stew in front of him. “It’s the least we can do to make sure you stay dry during the weather cycle, and you did after all agree to do me the favour of getting rid of this stew.”

The boy sputtered for a moment as Father Jacob recovered himself enough to laugh, but ultimately settled for merely snagging the spoon Sister Helen offered him and enjoying the stew as the children bounded in for dinner.


	4. Intervention of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Solo Meets Kip, Ed"s Gang is Introduced, and Things Get Blown Up.

Kip Kierland followed the other children quickly down the stairs. Tonight was stew night, and stew night had always been one of his favouritest nights! Sister Helen made really excellent milk stew, even better than… well, he didn’t like to think about that.  
  
As he entered the kitchen, the first thing that the boy noted was that the visitor from earlier was still here. That was unusual. Solo, the blond boy got called Solo, he remembered. Kip could still remember the first time he’d heard Father Jacob mention the name. It had been late at night, and the priest had thought everyone asleep, but Kip had never been good at going to bed on time. Solo had been doing something to help Father Jacob, though he didn’t really know what anymore. Solo just had to be a good person, though – he knew that. The other kids didn’t, though – so Kip hurried over and jumped into the seat beside the older boy.  
  
“Hi!” He said cheerfully, smiling brightly up at the taller boy as he let his violet eyes go wide and innocent. The blond looked at him, startled a bit, but Kip could see Father Jacob nodding in approval behind him and knew better than to give up at a little surprise.  
  
“Hi.” The older boy said cautiously, eyeing him from over a bowl of stew. Kip grabbed his spoon and took a long slurp of the warm liquid, letting Solo get used to him a bit. He reminded Kip of the kitty he had wanted to keep, but that Sister Helen had said they had no room for just now, and Kip should wait to take care of one.  
  
The stew, meanwhile, slid warmly down Solo’s throat. How long had it been since the last time he’d had hot food? Days, maybe weeks… He swallowed, savouring the rich taste. It had milk in it, Solo observed idly, closing his eyes against the visions of a woman with long brown hair that danced across his mind.  
  
“So, Kip, how was your day?” Father Jacob asked, making a point of focusing on the dark haired boy beyond the blonde. It was enough that Helen had talked Solo into staying without expecting him to interact with the children of the orphanage. Grabbing a spoon for himself, the priest enjoyed a mouthful of the stew. Perhaps it was not as thick as it could have been, but spreading the nutrition to others was more important today than enriching the taste for those with plenty.  
  
“Good!” the boy replied enthusiastically, violet eyes shining. He paused for a mouthful of soup before continuing, “I played tag with Mike and Gabe, and well, I’m not really sure who won cause we just kinda got tired and stopped, but I think it probably was me. How do you decide who wins at tag, anyways? Do you know? I don’t know yet, but I betcha there’s gotta be a way to do it!”  
  
Father Jacob allowed himself a bit of laughter at the boy’s expense, shaking his head as he did so. Kip’s innate cheer restored to the man some of the balance he had lost earlier, clearing his head as effectively as the food did.  
  
“After that, Nina and I played on the swings together. I like swings.” Kip said, barely bothering to eat as he continued to chatter. “Lisette was telling me that if you swing over the bar you wind up in outer space after you come back down, but that doesn’t sound right to me. It’s harder to get into space then that, right? You need a spacecraft or something, right? Right?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know.” Father Jacob answered, seeming to ponder the question. “If we were on Earth I don’t think that would work at all, but here on the colonies…”  
  
“No, silly!” Kip insisted with a giggle. “How would we breathe if that happened? And you and Sister Helen wouldn’t let us do anything that was *really* dangerous like that!”  
  
“Oh we wouldn’t, would we?” The priest cast a sly grin at his fellow “parent” before looking back at the child before him. She shook her head, stirring her own stew idly before turning back to listen to something Julia was attempting to tell her. “Are you sure of that?”  
  
“Yep! Isn’t that right, mister?” The boy said, turning to face the blonde to his immediate right. “Father and Sister are too nice to do that sort of thing, right?”  
  
“Wha - ? Yes.” Solo responded, startled. His eyes snapped open, head swinging round to look at the boy by his side.  
  
“Do you even know what you just agreed to, Solo?” Father Jacob asked, laughing at the wide-eyed expression on the boy’s face. It was a real pleasure to catch the usually guarded child so completely uncomposed, even if it was only for a moment. Surprise made him seem his age.  
  
“I – that is I –“ The blond stammered for a moment, then regained his footing as he snapped at the man, “Of course I know! I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t agree with the kid.”  
  
“So you’ll come play with me tomorrow, then?” Kip asked, grinning broadly and working hard to keep the mischief from his eyes.  
  
“Of course I – wait – uh – that is – “ Solo stammered as Father Jacob cackled behind him. The blonde whirled on the older man. “What are you laughing at, priest?  
  
Father Jacob took a moment to get himself under control, stared at the angry blond for a moment, and then started laughing again. Kip, meanwhile, turned exceedingly innocent puppy dog eyes towards the boy beside him, who looked furiously back and forth between the two of them as if sensing somehow that he had been conned.  
  
“Please?” Kip said, grabbing a hold of Solo’s sleeve. Solo turned to look at the child beside him, and his eyes softened ever so slightly.  
  
“Fine.” He grumbled, drawing his arm swiftly away from the boy. Kip smiled a wide, toothy grin, and clapped his hands together. Solo threw his arms up irritably before grabbing his spoon and helping himself to another mouthful of soup. “Don’t get any ideas though, kid. I can’t stay long.”  
  
“How kind of you, Solo!” Sister Helen exclaimed as she approached the table at last with her own bowl of stew. She seated herself across from him, brushing her braid over her shoulder as she settled into the chair and, after a shooting Father Jacob’s a silencing glance, began to eat.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Solo replied. He rose to his feet then, and headed to the covered container on the counter. “I should get going. I’ve got places to be. Tomorrow?”  
  
Father Jacob raised an eyebrow at him, tilting his head slightly to one side. His eyes shifted up and to the left, gaze silent and unfocused momentarily before he nodded. Solo grabbed the container and head out into the night.  
  
Behind him, from his seat at the kitchen table, Kip, shouted, “See you tomorrow, Solo!”  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The building on the top of the hill was really nothing worth discussing. An old widow had lived in it once, many years ago. After she had died, the house had slowly started going downhill, with no one to take care of it and no one particularly interested in it. The midst of the industrial sector hadn’t been a popular housing location when the widow moved into her house, and it was even less of one when she left. No, the house on top of the hill really was nothing special.  
  
The factory below it, on the other hand, was.  
  
Ed approached the building moving as swiftly as he could. He’d found it not long after he’d arrived, and quickly figured out that an abandoned factory would serve him well. It certainly hadn’t been his intention to house a large number of L2’s strays when he had moved in… but the building was big, big enough to be wasted on a single person… and there were so many people whose need was so great…  
  
That, and D-trak had insisted. The brat.  
  
He balanced the container of stew carefully. The others hadn’t known where he was going today—they never did for safety reasons, and might have already eaten. If they’d already eaten, they would need to keep the stew well-covered so they could eat it another day. Sister Helen’s stew could last them for days at a time, and had on more than one occasion. Just because they had food today didn’t mean there would be any tomorrow.  
  
“Solo!” The shout reached him easily. There, hanging out a second story window, was Flyer. Ed threw him a quick look of disapproval, and stopped where he was until Flyer disappeared from the window. He’d worked damn hard to keep this place under the radar, and it wouldn’t do to have their cover blown now.  
  
“Idiot.” He sighed, heading towards the side door. The larger doors to the factory were far too obvious to open at any time of day, but the tiny door on the far side could be accessed without anyone noticing. After glancing around to be certain no one was, for whatever reason, lurking around, Ed hurried into the building.  
  
“Solo! Solo!” The small children shouted as he entered the factory. They ran over to hug him, nearly bowling him over in their enthusiasm. Above the sounds of their cheerfully chatter, he could hear Den barking loudly, clearly trying to get closer to him. Ed fought to keep his grip on the container, shifting it over his head and twisting.  
  
“Get off him, you lot! You too, Den.” The kids quickly stepped back, turning instead to face the man whose company they had departed in favour of Ed. The dog, on the other hand, walked over to his master, rubbing against his legs. The blond man lowered his arms and shifted the stew once more before smiling at the dark haired man before him. The man gave him a distinct look before turning to the children and fixing them with his gaze. “You know better than to do that when he’s carrying food.”  
  
“Yes, Tio!” They chorused, looking at him with unapologetic glances. Tio shook his head, then gestured them impatiently towards the table at the far side of the hangar.  
  
“Dinner’s here. Go sit or don’t eat.” The words had scarcely passed Tio’s lips before the children stampeded off, managing to keep the pushing and shoving to a minimum for once. Ed smirked, then followed along, Den trailing in his wake as he placed the bowl on the table. Tio grabbed a stack of bowls from a nearby cabinet where they kept the dishes, bringing them quickly to Ed’s side. Ed tossed Tio the ladle, and slipped from the table with practiced ease.  
  
In the following chaos, Ed nearly slipped away. The children clambered for their bowls, keeping Tio occupied with filling them. He’d just manage to finish filling one when it would be pulled from his hand and passed along the table to the last empty place. The kids were damned scrupulous about sharing. Yes, Ed could probably have escaped… if D-trak hadn’t suddenly appeared beside him.  
  
“And where do you think you’re going, Sol?” The dark haired boy’s green eyes stared piercingly into the golden ones before him as he reached out a hand and grabbed the blonde by the coat sleeve. “You skipped eating yesterday, and the day before that, too. I seem to remember having a deal that you would eat with the group at least once every three days.”  
  
Ed spared him a withering glance before shaking off his arm and stalking forward. D-trak darted in front of him, hands raised in front of his chest as though to block Solo, though he continued back as the other boy continued forward. The grin that lit his face had a vaguely manic quality.  
  
“Now, look, Solo,” he began, “I know you like to take care of us, and that food is scarce, but today there’s Sister’s stew, and plenty of it. Just ‘cause you had a cup of tea today doesn’t mean –“  
  
“Bowl of stew.” Ed said irritably as he reached out and pushed his way past D-trak. “Sister Helen’s as bad as you are, insisted that I join them for dinner after having done such a huge favour for them.”  
  
The blond grabbed hold of the railing and swung around it, quickly climbing the stairs. He slipped quickly up the ladder to the uppermost level, Den whining as he was left behind. His dark haired friend followed past the dog as they went up, arriving swiftly in the large room that had been set aside for end of the day reports.  
  
“Flyer!” Ed shouted as he stormed through the door.    
  
The sandy-haired man in question ducked behind Shells, who nearly dropped his ball and shells in the sudden rush of movement. He cowered behind the taller boy, using the other’s cape as a sort of protective shield. Ed ignored it, walking straight towards him and grabbing the cape from his hands. Shells quickly dove to the side, getting out of the line of fire with an efficiency born of years of practice.  
  
“Hey there, Solo! How’s it going today? Have any luck with the Father today?” Flyer rambled speedily. “I’ve got some more news for you on that front, actually. Seems like there’s something big about to happen, there’s – “  
  
Ed reached forward and grabbed the other boy by the front of his shirt, hauling him forward and down to Ed’s own level. He glared at him in unerring irritation as Flyer continued to babble on about nothing and everything until at last the boy froze, a hand behind his head and an apologetic expression on his face. When he spoke, Ed’s voice carried in it an arctic chill.  
  
“We agreed that screaming out the windows could potentially give away our location, did we not?”  
  
“…yes?” Flyer’s voice squeaked.  
  
“Since we agreed that doing so would risk all of our lives,” Ed continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “then what–” here he shook Flyer to punctuate the point – “Were you doing –” and he shook him again, “Shouting out the WINDOW?”  
  
“Sorry, Solo, sorry! Won’t happen again, man, I promise!” Pleading green eyes looked deep into his own.  
  
“It better not!” He concluded, with one final jerk of Flyer’s outfit, before he cast the other boy to the side of the room and stalked like an aggrieved cat to claim the chair by the window. He threw himself carelessly into it, not realizing that it had been moved slightly farther away from the wall than usual as he leaned the chair back.  
  
THUMP!  
  
The distance Ed hadn’t noticed was there proved to be his downfall as the wall was too far away to catch the upper edges of the chair. He had tipped uncontrollable backwards, leaving him flailing on the ground in an effort to straighten himself. His head only just missed the wall cracking itself on the wall, leaving Ed thankful for once that his stature had yet to exceed five feet.  
  
“Are you all right, Solo?” Princess said, coming to his side as he disengaged his limbs from the chair and rose grumbling to his feet. Her long red ponytail floated gracefully in her wake. She rubbed a hand along the top of his head which Ed quickly shook off, brushing the taller girl away as he straightened the chair and sat down again. She turned and gave Flyer a scathing look. “Way to be, Flyboy.”  
  
“Hey, hey! I didn’t have anything to do with that!” Flyer protested defensively.  
  
“Sure you didn’t.” She replied, flouncing back to the couch which she had previously been sharing with Cookie. Flyer looked like he wanted to renew his protests, but was stopped before he could even begin by D-trak’s timely interruption.  
  
“Way to be, Sunny.” He said, grinning broadly at Solo. “Very graceful, oh high and mighty leader.”  
  
“Shut up, Deedee.” Ed answered, shaking his head as he grabbed a notebook and a pen from a nearby table. The room silenced itself quickly, broken only by the popping sound of Cookie’s bubble gum blowing. “Anyone got any news to report? Find out anything useful for us today?”  
  
Notebooks appeared from various locations, each person skimming over their catches of the day to see what was most useful. As they did so, Tio slipped quietly through the door, grabbing the chair nearest the door and dropping into it before drawing out a notebook of his own. A pencil appeared in his hand as he began to do some figuring. Flyer, surprisingly, looked up first.  
  
“There really is something big about to go down.” He began, looking over a few scrawled pages. “Most of the military types didn’t come in today, even the real regulars. The few who did come only did fly-bys today, grabbing a sandwich or something before heading back to the base.”  
  
“Who came in and who didn’t?” Ed inquired, staring intently at one page of his own book.  
  
“Sonic, Hawkeye, and Cloud didn’t show. Java, Jitters, and Tinker all came in quickly and left. Flaky stayed for a bit, but even she was only there for a few minutes.” Flyer replied. “They all looked really tense, too.”  
  
“Flaky remembered to leave in only a few minutes?” Ed asked. At Flyer’s nod, he continued, “Okay, so something involving the pilots is going down, and it’s got the engineers really busy at the moment, busy enough for even Flaky to keep mostly on top of things. This isn’t just going to be big; it’s going to be huge. Anyone else got something?”  
  
“Ooo, I do!” Cookie said, drawing a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I noticed someone new on the streets today looking at this. He had that whole scary military sense to him, so I figured it’d be worth it to try and pick his pocket. Guy didn’t even notice anything was gone.” She grinned proudly. “I got his wallet, too.”  
  
She reached over the edge of the couch and, stretching, passed the paper to Ed. He unfolded it, quickly skimming over the contents before going back to the beginning and starting again. As Ed slowly perused the contents, the others continued on around him.  
  
“Well,” Princess said, “I can confirm that there are new military people in town. I watched the mobile suits landing at the base. They moved in quickly, though – ducked into the warehouses as soon as they touched down. They’re painted different colors from the ones we usually see, too.”  
  
Ed looked up sharply at her, piercing her to the core with his sharply metallic eyes.  
  
“Different how?” He asked.  
  
“Looked to me like they were part of the Romefeller Foundation, but I couldn’t be sure. Sorry, Sol, they were just too fast for me today.” Princess replied, looking vaguely irritated with herself.  
  
“Hey, something big is going down!” Flyer interjected. “Princess finally admits she’s not perfect! I never thought I’d live to see the day!”  
  
“You might not live to see the day end if you keep that up.” Tio remarked, watching the girl’s pale blue eyes light with fire. “In less important news, between Sister’s stew and the check that arrived today from Mom, we should be able to keep everyone fed for the rest of the month. With the money from Cook’s pocket picking today, and there was a lot of it, combined with the money from the sale of the museum’s plans, we should be able to afford that new security system.”  
  
“There was that much money in that guy’s wallet?” Ed asked, absorbing Tio’s nod before refocusing his attention on the notebook before him, scratching things furiously on the page.  
  
“Hey!” Cookie protested, playing with the ends of her shoulder-length strawberry blond hair. “I got more than just one wallet today. I always get more than one wallet, you know that!”  
  
Shells smiled and came over to pat her on the head, forcing both Princess and Cookie to scoot closer to the edges of the couch as he sat between them. Princess grumbled, but nevertheless moved aside.  
  
“No one’s insulting your skills, Sweet.” He said, lifting the tip of her chin. “We know you’re good. Just like you know you don’t need to pull this pouty stuff with us.” Cookie stuck her tongue out at him, then grinned. Shells turned to Ed and continued, “Alliance spooks have been sniffing around again, but no one’s really paying attention to us yet. Word on the street is that at the moment they’ve got bigger fish to fry than our L2 only resistance aid group.”  
  
Ed nodded again, adding this to his already crowded page of notes. He scrawled something, squinted at it, scribbled something beside it, and looked up.  
  
“Say that again.” He demanded, staring at Shells.  
  
“What?” Shells asked. “That the Alliance is looking for us or that they’ve got bigger fish to fry.”  
  
“The thing about the fish.” Ed replied, staring at him intently.  
  
“You know, Sun, if you want something to eat…” D-trak began, though he stopped when Ed turned to glare at him for a moment before refocusing on Shells.  
  
“They’ve got bigger fish to fry than us right now.” Shells said, looking a bit confused. He thought for a moment, then added, “It’s because we only operate on L2. It seems like they’ve got wind of something –“  
  
“That connects the colonies to one another!” Ed snapped his fingers as he jumped to his feet, chair clattering forward to a normal position behind him. “It’s Maxwell Church! They’re going to go after it, and soon! I’ve got to get there and warn the Father now.”  
  
That said, he grabbed a gun from a nearby table, thrust it into his pocket, and dashed towards the door, casting his notebook upon the table. The others followed closely on his heels, dashing behind him down the stairs, grabbing weapons from assorted hidden locations as they went.  
  
“Tio, you stay and watch the kids. Princess, get over to the base as fast as you can, see if anything’s going down now. Flyer, you’re with Tio – if this is a decoy, they may be coming after us instead. If they come, hold them off long enough for Tio to get away, then blow things up and get the fuck away from here. Cookie, you and D-trak come with me. I want you to help Sister Helen with the kids – get them all to one of the safe locations we’ve discussed before – doesn’t matter which one, just get them away. I don’t want them anywhere near a battle. D-trak-“  
  
“I know, Solo.” The dark haired boy responded. Solo glanced over his shoulder, pausing for a moment, and nodded at him.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Ed, Cookie, and D-trak dashed through the streets, running as quickly as they could towards the good father and kindly sister with whom they shared such a mutually beneficial relationship. The streets were full of people out for a night on the town, wandering the streets in search of a good evening meal or an event to attend. The three dashed and dodged with all the speed they had. A horrible sense of foreboding settled itself in Ed’s heart.  
  
The fastest way to approach Maxwell House from the warehouse required that Ed, D-trak, and Cookie first pass the church on the way to the orphanage. As they ran up the hill to the church, Ed realized with a jolt that a mobile suit stood next to the church, which itself looked as though a bomb had exploded in it. For one terrible, frightening moment, he wondered if they had perhaps arrived too late to help.  
  
Then they reached the crown of the hill, and looking down at the burning wreck that had once been the orphanage, Ed knew with grim certainty that they were too late by far.  
  
“Oh no!” Cookie exclaimed. She started forward, but D-trak caught hold of her arm, and held her back. He turned to look at Solo, his face for once absent of its usual smile.  
  
“What should we do now, Sol?” He asked, staring at the frozen blond. When no response was immediately forthcoming, he reached over and pulled lightly on Ed’s ponytail. “Solo, what do we do?”  
  
Ed’s voice caught in his throat. Even the swing set that had stood so proudly in the backyard, a work he himself had made for the children to play on – that, too, had been destroyed. The earth about the place where the building had stood was scorched, leaving not even the grass, or the remains of the path to the orphanage. Already the soldiers had departed from the area, leaving nothing behind in their wake. Nothing – the emptiness of the once lively space ached to be filled again.  
  
With a start, Ed remembered the mobile suit that stood on the opposite side of the church. If the soldiers were all gone, all save that one - He turned, dashing around the corner of the building. They had been too late once already today. If they were too late this time, it could spell disaster for everyone back at the warehouse. If they were recognized, and the soldier reported in – it couldn’t be allowed to happen. Too much depended upon their preventing it.  
  
As he pounded around the building, Ed could hear D-trak and Cookie on his heels, no doubt intent on backing him up. He picked up his pace – no sense in getting them caught if anyone got caught at all. As he rounded the corner from the front of the church to the far side, his fingers tightened their grip upon the gun in his pocket.  
  
He hadn’t expected to see the suit on its knees, the door to its piloting compartment open, the seat itself empty. The suit had been abandoned by someone, but for all Ed could tell it was still in working order. For the life of him, he could not figure out why the Alliance would leave behind such a thing.  
  
The soft sound of sobbing that reached his ears after a moment clued him in.  
  
“Kip!” Solo exclaimed, walking over and kneeling beside him. He opened his arms and the younger boy curled around him as Solo surveyed the scene. “Kip, what happened? I need you to tell me what happened.”  
  
“S-s-soldiers!” The boy sobbed. “They said they wanted some sort of technology, and Father Maxwell told them we didn’t have any, but they said they wouldn’t leave without it.”  
  
Solo wanted to curse the man for a fool, wanted to swear a blue streak. Father Maxwell had known it wouldn’t matter, had known he could make a new one if necessary… could have told him sooner, could have said something before it became this much of a problem. Solo could have given him the console almost immediately if they had only known how short time was…  
  
“So, so, I told them I would go and get them a mobile suit if they would leave!” Kip continued, tears rolling down his face. Solo awkwardly stroked his head, amazed at the boy’s bravado. “And I did it, I brought one back – but – but – but I got here too late!”  
  
Solo saw D-trak and Cookie approach, and gestured to them to be quiet with a shake of his head.  
  
“Now they’re dead!” He exclaimed, crying hard. “All of them, all of them! Father Jacob and Sister Helen! Nina, Mike, and Gabe… They’re all gone!”  
  
After that, he couldn’t manage another word, merely sobbed into Solo’s shoulder. Ed held him uncomfortably, glancing between the remains of the orphanage and the mobile suit to his right. After a moment he nodded to himself, and rose to his feet.  
  
“Can you get that back all right?” He asked D-trak, indicating the mobile suit with a tilt of his head. D-trak nodded in affirmation before scrambling into it and heading off.  
  
“All right, kid, you’re coming with us.” Solo said. He shifted Kip to his back, and glanced at Cookie to make sure she was with them. She nodded in response, and the three of them headed off to the warehouse without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you can identify who the gang are based on. =)


End file.
